Oh no, not, horror, singing!

Cinema has the capacity to surprise and evoke quite strong responses, yet hitherto the emotion of walking out and them complaining to the Advertising Standards Authority about buying a ticket without realising they were about to watch a film with singing in it probably hasn’t been high up the list.

Now, if I’d brought a ticket for a film and it turned out to be a musical, I’d at least give them film a chance and let it stand or fall on its own merits [1]. But no, it seems some people are so offended by the idea of sitting down for a couple of hours and watching a film with singing in it, they’re unable to countenance the idea the film might actually be quite good.  Yet I’d wager a good proportion are exactly the same morons who’ll happily pay fifty quid to sit through a couple of hours of unadulterated toss on stage like We Will Rock You, or think Grease is is the nadir of musical cinema.

Burton’s adaptation of the demon barber’s story may be flawed in place, but it’s still probably the best musical committed to the big screen for a decade, maybe more.  Chicago was fun, with some great tunes, but felt too stilted and stage-bound, while The Producers was just rubbish.

Anyway, if we’re complaining about trailers misrepresenting the actual film, then I’d like to claim some form of damages for being duped into thinking Along Came Polly was funny, Perfume was in any way intelligent, Spiderman 3 wouldn’t make me want to gnaw my arm off in sheer frustration at the treatment of potentially one of the best villains in the series, and that Mission: Impossible 3 had aspects that could be described as ‘exciting’ and, thus, lead me to mistakenly assume the whole film wasn’t made solely for dribbling numpties who can’t be described as brain dead on the grounds that brain dead people have infinitely more intelligence.

On second thoughts, if I’d just endured sitting through any of the above then I’d probably be too depressed at the waste of all those hours of my life I’d never get back. Or, as I felt after watching quite possibly the worst film ever made – Le Divorce – whether or not to kidnapped all those involved with the film and drop them out in the middle of the desert with no water and portable DVD players containing only that film until they saw the error of their ways and vowed to burn every copy of the offending piece of celluloid ever made.

[1] I’ve actually done this once before when I saw the fantastic 8 Women. I’m not sure if it quite classifies as a musical, but with the random bursts into song its near as dammit. And yes, I wasn’t expecting it, and yes, I’m bloody glad I saw the film. 


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February 2008
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Yes, this is my name. And my email. Use it wisely or you're not getting a biscuit with your tea: garyllewellynandrews [at] gmail [dot] com

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